


Holding Hands

by towanda



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7970806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towanda/pseuds/towanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol and Therese leave NY on Christmas and arrive in Waterloo on New Year's Eve.  I wondered what happened during all those hours of the road trip we don't see on screen, and this is the story that unfolded.  Film canon, with some book influence for background.  Carol's POV, because I also wondered what was going on in her head, including in scenes we do see, and what prompted her to leave the way she did in Chicago, which is where this story ends (but thank goodness the film/book do not!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stepping Westward

Somewhere along the road west of Philadelphia, as the sun began to set, the land had turned forested, making the road darker. Carol turned the headlights on as the road curved.  Therese, Carol noticed, had leaned into the passenger door and fallen asleep.   _Poor thing_ , she thought to herself as she carefully pulled a blanket around her, _she hardly slept at all last night at my house_.  They had stayed up late, drinking whiskey on the swing seat in the glassed-in upstairs porch, quiet after talking over their travel route.  Carol had to admit she had been feeling a bit melancholy that night, staring out over the yard into darkness, as they essentially were preparing to flee.  Now, here they were, a day’s drive from home, and Carol ached to caress Therese’s cheek as she tucked the blanket under her chin.  _What was she fleeing from?_ Carol wondered.

The radio softly reported on Eisenhower’s Christmas celebrations, which Carol found boring, and she fiddled with the radio tuner until she found music, keeping the volume low to not disturb Therese. Suddenly, as they came out of a dipping and rising turn, Carol slammed on the brakes as a deer wandered into the middle of the road.  Instinctively, Carol flung her right arm out in front of Therese with a cry, catching her as she was thrown forward.

“Therese!  Are you all right?” The car stopped, and Carol drew a shaky breath.

“I’m fine, oh Carol, a deer! Look!” Instantly awake, Therese had caught Carol’s protective hand up into her own, pressing it into her chest in her excitement.  Her wide eyes stared out at the doe, calmly looking back at them.  “Let’s not go yet, can we?”

Carol could only gaze at Therese.  “Of course,” she said quietly, smiling slightly at Therese’s delight, and her own wonder at Therese holding her hand for the second time that day.  She could feel the curve of a breast under her hand and wondered if Therese noticed.  Carol tried to keep her breathing calm, taking a glance out the windshield at the deer.  The doe blinked at them, and then wandered off into the forest.

“Oh, Carol,” sighed Therese, squeezing her hand again and shifting it into her lap.  “She was beautiful.” 

“Yes,” Carol said softly, gazing again at Therese.  Therese looked at her and smiled.  For a moment they were still, gazing at each other, until Carol said, “Well, shall we?”  She felt Therese’s grip loosen, as if to release her hand, and before she could even think, she squeezed her hand back, refusing to let go.  Therese looked down at their hands, then back up at Carol, and Carol felt a plea form in her own eyes, an unvoiced “please don’t let me go.” When Therese squeezed her hand back and settled back into the seat, Carol finally breathed again, and released the brake.

She did not, however, release Therese’s hand, nor did Therese let go, and they drove on into the night, quietly holding hands as Therese talked about never seeing animals since she had always lived either at the girl’s home or in the city.  There was ease in their conversation, laughter.  And Carol’s hand held in Therese’s as they left New York farther and farther behind.

As far as Carol was concerned, they got to their motel outside Pittsburgh all too soon.  When they stepped out of the car, all was sudden awkwardness at their separation, as if neither one knew where to stand, or where to look, or what to say as they unpacked the car, said goodnight, and headed to their separate rooms. 

Lying between the scratchy sheets, Carol wondered what Therese thought, what she felt.  Carol felt bereft at being alone, as she had when Therese had nervously let her hand go in the diner earlier that day.  She wondered, was letting go a way of Therese recognizing, “I notice you notice I am holding your hand, my goodness, I’m holding your hand, should I be holding your hand?” and thus the quick patting release as she went back to her camera.  Carol had tried to keep her face soft, curious, open, even when she asked about Richard in an effort to cover the moment and also to try to get a sense of what Therese thought, a hint at what she felt for him. 

In truth, they had known each other for such a short time, although from the moment their eyes met in Frankenberg’s Carol was intrigued, and knew soon into their first lunch that Therese was smitten.  But that night of the injunction, when Therese had moved through the awed haze of her crush and seen her as human, laying her hand on Carol’s shoulder, Carol had felt her quiet, deep care for her as she wept, and it moved her.  The connection when Carol reached back and grasped her hand was nearly electric, a charge humming “there is more here when you are ready” between their skin.  Did Therese feel what Carol felt, when their hands touched?  What if she did, what then?

Carol remembered how it felt when she first recognized her feelings for Abby.  Confusing, exhilarating, and so unknown how does one even imagine it, let alone speak of it?  How do you say what you know to be true when everything and everyone tells you it cannot, must not be?  How could she be sure Therese felt what she did?  Therese said yes to everything Carol asked, gave her a love song as a Christmas present for goodness sake.  Still, Carol wanted her to be sure.  What she felt for the young woman left her wanting to honor Therese’s own process, even though Carol knew she herself wanted more.  And anyway, what if she guessed wrong?  In the middle of a road trip no less.  So Carol resolved to say nothing.

But in the car, Therese had not let go.  She had not let Carol go, and had opened up to her about the girl’s home, and seemed as comfortable with their physical connection as Carol felt comforted by it.  This is all I will do, she said to herself, this is all I will do until she makes the next move.  As she drifted into sleep, she wondered what it would take for one of them to be brave enough.   

The next morning, when Therese handed her the blue sweater through the bathroom door, Carol caught her eyes scanning her body, still wet as she tried to keep her robe around her.  _Yes_ , she thought, noticing Therese’s breath catch, _perhaps being brave looks just like this_.  She dared an extra lilt in her eyes and voice when she closed the door saying “I’ll be right out.”  Perhaps being brave looks just like this.

But when they got onto the road again that morning, Therese seemed a little distant, shifting into the corner where the seat met the car door as she unwrapped their sandwiches.  Carol was puzzled, and wondered if she had gone too far.  Therese handed her part of her sandwich and she took a bite.

She sensed Therese chewing slowly, swallowing.  Therese asked, “Do you feel safe? With me, I mean?”

Carol laughed gently at the question. “You’re full of surprises,” she said with a smile, trying to put Therese at ease.  Where was this coming from? 

Therese took another bite of her sandwich, careful in choosing her words. “But – you’d tell me. If something scared you. And I could help.” 

Carol was not sure if it was a question.  What was going on inside her head?  With a little more vehemence than she had intended, she responded looking straight out the windshield: “I’m not frightened, Therese.” 

But Carol wasn’t entirely sure that was true. She was scared, of what would happen when the trip was over, when they returned to New York.  What would happen with Rindy?  What would happen with her and Therese?  But now, on the road, just the two of them alone and ever farther from New York, the only thing that scared her was whether or not Therese would hold her hand again.  Was that what Therese meant?

Wax paper crinkled as Therese crumpled up the sandwich wrappers and tucked them into the basket in the back seat.  As she re-settled in the front Carol noticed she’d not gone back into the corner, but sat once again in reach.  Carol knew her well enough by now to know she was still pondering on something, but now she was watching the road with those ever-curious eyes.  Had Carol’s response been enough to calm whatever was rolling around in Therese’s head?

“Therese…” Carol almost whispered, and she glanced over to see Therese watching her, a kind, open look on her face, “I’m not afraid.”  Carol drew a breath, looked back out at the road, and quietly placed her hand on Therese’s knee, and when Therese gathered her hand into her own and pulled it into her lap with a contented smile on her face, Carol’s heart pounded. 

Crossing into Ohio, now 3 state lines away from New York, Carol felt like she could breathe again.  They wandered along the way, taking back roads and stopping for Therese to take photos.  In the car Therese delightfully watched the landscape changes, and Carol sometimes felt her thoughtful gaze on herself as well.  They had a long lunch in a grove of trees, bundled in their coats and yet warmed by the unusually bright winter sun gleaming down through bare branches. 

As they drove on, sharing stories, Carol found herself enchanted by Therese’s kindness, openness, and her gentle curiosity. _She asks me things_ , Carol thought, _but doesn’t pry, or push.  She lets me be, and waits, lets me share what I’m ready to_.  Such a relief, to be with someone who doesn’t push or pry, or act like every thought Carol might have belonged to her. Harge of course treated Carol as if her whole life were his possession. Even Abby, because they had known each other forever, sometimes thought she had a right to Carol’s inner world. 

_Well_ , Carol thought, _Therese has her own inner world too_ , and though Carol was not always sure what was going on in her mind, the fact remained that Therese had yet to let her hand go in the car. After every time they stopped -- for a walk, for gas, for a photo of winter’s light against stark bare trees -- they would climb back in the car, Carol would get back on the road, and then quietly slide her gloved hand over to Therese, who without a word would pull her hand into her own. 

 


	2. If The Rate's Attractive

Late that afternoon they pulled into the McKinley Motel in Canton.  They had not gone far as the crow flies, but somehow, with their wandering, story-telling day, Carol felt as if they had traveled outside of time.  As Carol released Therese’s hand to shut off the car, she sighed to herself.  _Another night without her, alone.  I don’t want to be alone_ , she thought.  _I don’t want this day to be over yet, and be without her_.  As she walked to the motel lobby to register, pulling her coat around her, she wished she knew how to ask what Therese wanted.

Carol was stunned when she heard Therese ask from behind her, “Why not take the Presidential Suite?” – giving Therese a slow, long look around her shoulder.  _Well well_ , she thought as she held Therese’s wide-eyed, sparking gaze – a challenge or a plea Carol was not quite sure – **_she_** _knows how to ask for what **she** wants._   “If the rate’s attractive…” Therese added, and Carol smirked gently to herself as she turned back to the desk and signed off on the Presidential Suite.

Unloading the car, Carol gave Therese a shimmering glance over her shoulder.  “Bring the record player.” Once in the room she made a quick call to Abby to update them on their journey; Abby laughed to hear they were now sharing a room. (“That didn’t take long.”  “Oh shut up.”) Therese had suddenly disappeared into the bathroom while Carol called, and didn’t come out until she had hung up. 

Their evening was the best kind of absurd.  Carol made Therese play “Easy Living” over and over on the portable turntable.  “Again,” she would husk with a sip of whiskey, and Therese would start the record over.  As they used every item in Carol’s makeup case, Carol was not sure she had giggled as much since she was a child.  They sat close on the floor, knees touching, tipsy from the whiskey and soda.  Carol knew Therese was enjoying the closeness by the way she leaned in, open and eager, each time Carol applied new makeup to her face. 

Still, when Therese dabbed perfume at Carol’s wrist Carol took even herself by surprise when after rubbing the scent under her ear she bared her neck to Therese for her to smell, and they leaned into each other.  Cheek to cheek, Carol could feel Therese’s breath, quick with nerves but warm on her hair, her skin, as a beat passed, and another, and Carol breathed in Therese’s scent, and would not move until Therese did.  Carol felt Therese shift her head slightly, closer, and held her own breath wondering what would happen next.

But Therese pulled back, eyes averted, confused perhaps, Carol guessed, and so Carol leaned back into the sofa to give her space.  _My poor darling_ , she thought, _how do I let you know it’s ok_?  To cover the moment she picked up her tumbler, gave the whiskey a swirl and toasted, “To President McKinley!”  And the moment resumed in laughter.

Eventually, still grinning quietly, they climbed into their own beds to sleep.  Carol had Billie Holiday’s voice running through her head as she settled under the sheets, eventually shifting onto her side so that she was facing Therese’s bed.  Her own eyes closed, thoughts and yearnings tumbling through her own body, she felt Therese’s eyes on her as she tried to sleep, heard her shift and toss and turn.  _My poor, brave darling_ , she thought, as she drifted off, still feeling Therese’s cheek against hers.

When Carol awoke Therese was already out of the shower and nearly dressed.  _Did she even sleep at all?  What is she thinking this morning?_   Carol hoped she was not regretful, and was relieved when Therese smiled at her as she rubbed her bleary eyes.  “I am desperately in need of coffee after all that whiskey last night,” Therese said, “I’ll save you a spot, ok?”

“That sounds good, darling, I’ll be right there after a quick shower.”  Therese’s smile was inscrutable as she slipped out the door.  _When did I start calling her darling?_ Carol asked herself as she scrubbed off the whiskey haze.  _Well, she doesn’t seem to mind._   In the diner, Carol saw Therese watching for her, and the way her eyes went wide as she took Carol in _.  It must be the pants,_ Carol thought as she grabbed a chair to pull over, _I’ve always liked these.  Ah my darling, you know what you want, but do you know what you want?_  

Carol had not even noticed the rather odd young man in glasses at the table.  Therese angled away from him as Carol sat down and shifted her chair away from him, blocking him with her body.  Perhaps he would take the hint and leave?  Therese seemed fully at ease with her, looking over the map, each leaning into the other’s space, Therese matching Carol’s own amused glance as the fellow continued to interrupt.  He was their own private joke, Carol decided, and there was no way in hell she would take his two-hour shortcut. 


	3. Interested in Humans

The farther they got from New York, the freer they seemed to be. Carol discovered she gloried in getting Therese to laugh, drawing out a story about the time Rindy brought home a box full of crickets and let them loose in the house, until Therese was shaking at the images of Carol running around the house in just her bathrobe following every cricket sound, trying to catch them on her hands and knees and return them to the box -- because of course Rindy would not tolerate any cricket being harmed, oh no!  “I’m still not sure I found them all.  I think I still heard one in the upstairs porch the other night while we were sitting there.”  Therese laughed so hard she lay down across the seat, hands over her belly, and Carol smiled as she watched the road.  Without thinking, she reached down and mussed Therese’s hair.  “Oh Carol, you make my sides hurt!” she grinned up at her, finally able to catch her breath. 

“And after all that I am hot in this coat, darling,” Carol responded, “get up and help me take it off.”  She began to shrug her shoulders under the fur and Therese sat up to help her, peeling back the shoulders and the sleeves, tugging at it, and simultaneously holding the steering wheel as Carol tried to extricate her arms from the coat.  They were soon laughing again, until finally Therese had pulled the coat away, and to Carol it felt like shedding skin, like removing armor, like freedom.

“That’s better,” she sighed, settling back again into her seat.  The two women smiled at each other and took hands.  Carol looked out the windshield down the road again, a corner of her mouth cocked in a smile.  “We should find a place that sells crickets, and then send some to Rindy.  Let Harge deal with it for a change!”  They both laughed, but Carol suddenly felt a twinge as she remembered she wouldn’t see Rindy for weeks to come, and the looming fight with Harge.  She felt her smile fade as her heart ached.  As she shuddered a small sigh, she felt Therese squeezing her hand, and glanced over.  Therese’s face was full of kindness and concern, and Carol was moved that she noticed her change in mood.  “I wish there were something I could do,” Therese said quietly, rubbing her thumb over the back of Carol’s gloved hand.  _You’re doing it_ , Carol thought with an ache of longing, _you’re doing it_ , but she just nodded, and they drove on in silence for a stretch.

The drive to Chicago was the longest day so far; even though they didn’t wander off the main highway as much as they did in Ohio, they still stopped for a long lunch, and any time Therese was inspired by a photo opportunity, Carol pulled the car over.  _Such an eye_ , Carol reflected, _always looking, always seeing, seeing what I don’t see_.

Somewhere in western Indiana, the sunny weather shifted into grey, and fog, and drizzle.  The weather matched her mood, Carol thought as she turned on the headlights, unable to shake the melancholy that had settled in.  Therese just held her hand as they headed into Chicago in silence, dark coming early with the mid-winter weather.  When Therese held her hand the sad anger did not feel so overwhelming, and Carol was grateful for the quiet company.  

Carol registered for two rooms at the Drake, but as soon as she had signed and taken the keys, she turned and whispered in Therese’s ear, “You’re staying with me.”  She smiled at Therese’s quick gasp and shy glance.  _No more nights alone_ , Carol thought, _not after Canton_.  No matter how ridiculous it seemed paying for an empty room from here to the West Coast and back, she would not spend another night alone.  Calling on all of her East Coast self-assurance, she handed her key to the bellboy:  “We’re stopping at my room first.”  She cocked her head in the haughty way she knew Therese loved and sauntered to the elevator.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.  But once they were in the room, Carol was suddenly exhausted and laid down without even taking off her fur coat.  Stirring without opening her eyes, she realized her shoes were off, and a blanket had been pulled up over her.  Rubbing her face, she began to sit up, seeing Therese with a book in the wing chair across the room, her feet tucked up under her.  “You were thoughtful, to take care of me.  I’m so sorry I fell asleep.”

“It was a long drive today, don’t worry,” Therese reassured her, uncurling from the chair and walking over.  “Besides,” she said, pausing momentarily as if she were unsure where to sit, “I’m sure you’ve been...tired out by what you’ve gone through.”  She sat on the edge of the bed across from Carol. 

 _She wanted to sit here_ , Carol thought, slightly sad that she had not.  “Still,” Carol said with a wry smile, “it’s your first time in Chicago, I could show you a better time.”

Therese smiled kindly at Carol.  “Really, it’s fine.  I promise.  We’re here, you’re...I’m…” She rocked on the edge of the bed, suddenly shy.  “We’re here, that’s all that matters.”

Carol smiled to herself at Therese’s stumbling words.  She suspected she knew what Therese wanted to say.  She wanted to say it herself.  Instead, she just gazed at Therese, trying to fill her eyes with the same kindness she felt from the other woman.  Finally, with a deep breath, she shifted her feet to the floor.  “I’m famished.  What time is it, is the dining room still open, do you think?”

“I think so, though we still have some sandwiches in the basket if you don’t want to go down.”

“No, let’s go have a nice supper, shall we?”

Therese nodded, and Carol moved to the mirror to touch up her hair and makeup.  At the dining room, she fumbled to find her key with the room number on it.  She felt a thrill when Therese claimed the moment, “Room 623, Mrs. Aird,” not batting an eyelash when the hostess called her Mrs. Aird and led them to their table.  Carol winked at her, impressed. 

At the table they toasted martinis and ordered steaks at Carol’s insistence.  “Three days of diners and sandwiches, I need a real meal,” she said, buttering a roll. 

“Maybe they’ll have good coffee here in the morning?” Therese laughed.

“Ha!  I hope so!”

Carol felt her mood shift a little as they ate.  She needed a good meal, and rest.  “Therese, what would you think if we stay here a few days?  You’re right, I’m tired. And there’s so much to see here in Chicago, what do you think?”

Carol loved seeing Therese’s face light up at the suggestion.  “That would be lovely!  Yes, let’s do that.  We’re not in any hurry to be anywhere, are we?”

“No,” Carol replied with a slow shake of her head, “no hurry at all. We can go anywhere we like.”

“Good,” Therese said, taking a bite of steak and then shyly covering her smile with her fork hand, a gesture Carol had come to love.  “What should we do?”

Carol took a sip of her martini.  “Well, actually, let’s not set an alarm tomorrow and sleep in a bit?  Then at lunch we could make a plan?”

“Sure.  Let’s stop by the post office tomorrow, too, in case” – Therese couldn’t met her eyes – “...in case I have any mail.”

“Ah. Of course.”  Carol felt a small tightness begin to grow in her chest. “Are you expecting to hear from...someone?”

“Well…”  Therese shifted awkwardly in her chair and looked away.  “Richard said he would write me.”

The lift in Carol’s mood drained out of her.  “Ah.  Well of course. We can go tomorrow.”  She waved down the waiter and ordered more martinis.  Perhaps she could fill the hollow she now felt with vermouth and vodka.

Unlike the night before, the two women went to bed early, quietly, Therese taking a long time in the shower, allowing Carol to call Abby briefly to update her on their whereabouts before climbing into bed.  _At least the sheets aren’t scratchy_ , she thought to herself, mulling over the supper conversation and pulling the blankets closer around her head.  _Richard_ , she thought.  _She’s waiting on a letter from Richard.  How could she come all this way, holding my hand, and still be waiting on a letter from Richard?  The first thing she thought of to do in Chicago, check the mail. God, am I a fool. Am I a fool?_

As she drifted off into fitful sleep, she thought of Rindy, and wondered if this trip had all been a huge mistake.

***

They both rose late the next morning, Therese dressing quickly and going to find coffee.  By the time Carol was up and dressed, she had returned, carefully carrying two styrofoam cups.  The creamy warmth felt good going down, but didn’t take the edge off the lingering melancholy Carol felt. They decided to skip breakfast since it was so late anyway, to head first to the post office and then to lunch.

While Therese waited in line, Carol wandered away, rubbing at the ache in her chest and thinking of Rindy, the midnight thoughts still swirling behind her eyes:  _A mistake. A mistake_.  She found herself outside the phone booths; with a moment’s hesitation she stepped inside, dug change out of her bag, and dialed Harge’s office number.  Maybe there was still a chance of hope.

But the sound of Harge’s voice was a cold line drawn across her heart, and Carol hung up immediately.  _No_ , she thought, _no, I won’t.  I won’t beg, not to him_.  She took a deep breath as she put her earring back on and walked back towards the lobby. 

The sight of several letters in Therese’s hand made Carol gulp.  _More than one letter_ , she sighed, _oh god_.  Trying to cover her disappointment, she teased Therese.  “Someone’s popular,” she said, nodding her head towards the letters.

“All from Richard,” Therese replied, shoving the letters into her bag. 

 _Oh god_ , Carol groaned to herself, and turned towards the door.

“Aren’t you going to check your mail?”

“Nobody knows I’m here,” Carol responded, a little more sharply than she really wanted to, as she strode out. 

“Were you... making a call?” Therese asked from behind her.

“What? No – Ladies room.” She could feel Therese pause behind her, puzzled, and Carol sighed.  _Oh Therese. Please forgive me for lying to you, it’s too much today_.  She shook her head to herself as they got back in the car.  What was to become of all of this, she did not know.

They lunched at the Berghoff, Therese a bit sparkly-eyed to be eating in an historic restaurant that survived Prohibition – even if they weren’t allowed into the men’s only bar.  Carol did love Therese’s excitement for new experiences.  _Well_ , she thought, _if I’ve mis-read everything, at least I have a new friend, who’s kind and curious and funny.  At least that’s something._   But she still felt tinged with sadness.

They decided to keep it an easy day, driving up Lakeshore Drive, taking in the giant houses of the Gold Coast on one side and the flat gray-green of the frozen Lake Michigan on the other.  Carol knew some of the people who lived in the mansions but had no interest at all in calling on anyone.  Regardless of how many letters from Richard Therese had in her bag, Carol still just wanted to be with her.  She didn’t try to offer her hand to Therese in the car as the wandered up the lakeside, though, and wondered if Therese noticed.

On the north end of Lakeshore they found a place to park and walk out to the edge of the stone wall looking down onto Lake Michigan.  They were both mesmerized by the enormous chunks of ice, feet-thick slabs of frozen lake churning and grinding with the waves. 

“My god, you would die instantly if you fell in,” Carol murmured as Therese shook her head in awe and reached to get her camera out of her bag.  As she did, the letters flew loose into the wind, but rather than chase them, Therese just stood and watched them flutter into the lake.

“Therese, your letters!”

Therese just shrugged and watched as the wet paper began to sink between the chunks of ice. “I don’t even care.”

“What? You haven’t even read them.”

Therese turned to look Carol with an intensity that startled her.  “And I wasn’t going to.  I don’t care about them.  I was going to throw them away anyway.  I don’t care about them, Carol.”

Carol was astounded, speechless, and just gazed back at Therese, not even noticing the wind whipping the hair into her face.  Suddenly nothing existed but this moment, nothing but what Therese would say next.

“Carol.  I don’t care about them. About him.  I just picked them up so they wouldn’t get returned to him and give him that satisfaction. I…” Therese took a deep breath and looked up at the sky before looking back at Carol, full of intent.  “I don’t care about him, ok?”  

Carol felt her face break into a full smile for the first time all day. “Oh!  Well,” she said with a tilt of her head, “that’s that!” She wanted to laugh but settled for flinging her arms into the whirling wind, suddenly light and warm, belying the bitter cold at the lake’s edge.  The world had just taken a deep breath, and on its exhale released all the ache that had tightened around her heart. 

Therese smiled shyly and turned to photograph the ice floes while Carol watched her with a new spark in her eyes. _Maybe I’m not a fool after all,_ Carol thought, kicking a rock into the lake.  _She never ceases to amaze me.  How did she know what I needed to hear?  Well, maybe she needed to say it for herself too.  She’s a smart one, so shy and quiet and then erupts with these moments of bravery._   Carol wandered closer to Therese, who was laying on her belly on the wall’s edge to get a closer shot of the ice.  _Look at her_ , she thought.  _I love this woman.  Seeing. So committed to seeing. She sees **me** , my god, and I want her to.  I want her to._

She poked at Therese’s leg with her shoe, teasing.  “Hey, whatever happened to being interested in humans?” Therese rolled to her back, grinning and pointing the camera at Carol. 

“Oh?  Humans, huh?” And she snapped a photo of Carol.

“No no!” Carol laughed, backing up, covering her face with her hands as Therese scrambled to her feet, camera at the ready, giggling.  “You’re terrible, I look awful, this wind” – she grabbed Therese’s arm above the hand holding the camera as Therese took another photo, close, clearly of Carol’s face.

Therese reached out and took Carol’s arm.  “Don’t be silly, Carol, don’t you know how beautiful you are?”

And there was a sudden stillness, Carol again stunned to speechlessness.  Of course she knew she fit the mold of what a society woman should look like, but this sudden, genuine declaration took her breath away.  Nobody, ever, certainly not Harge, not even Abby. Not like this.  She looked right into Therese’s big, kind eyes, and this time, Therese didn’t look away.

“Therese…” she whispered, and slowly, tentatively slid her hand up Therese’s arm to her face, gently tucking strands of hair behind her ear.  Carol was certain the air between them was shimmering.  _Who is beautiful?_ she thought, and Therese shivered.

“You’re cold, darling.” And without thinking, Carol pulled Therese to her, wrapping her in her fur coat as Therese eased her arms around Carol’s waist underneath the coat, and there they stood, on the edge of the lake’s unending horizon stretching out beyond them to the east.  Therese shifted to lay her head on Carol’s chest, ear to her heart, but otherwise they did not move other than to breathe.  Three minutes or an hour, the actual time they stood there, embraced, did not matter.  When they heard the crunch of gravel as another car drove towards the lake, they broke apart quickly, though not, Carol thought, with guilt, but rather annoyed at the interruption of the moment.

They held hands in the car all the way back to the Drake.


	4. One Step Closer

The next couple of days they spent at museums and dining out (Therese insisted on eating at the Berghoff again).  Being the holidays the museum visitors were few, which suited Carol just fine.  There was a closeness as they moved through exhibit halls and galleries alone. 

By far their favorite museum was the Art Institute, where they spent hours wandering through the galleries.  Carol would touch Therese’s elbow, or shoulder, to point out something she had noticed, and occasionally Therese would do the same; sometimes they would lean into each other quietly as they regarded a painting.  But it was more the sense of moving through space together, an intimacy of connection that grew from the shared experience of being moved by the art.  And Carol loved to watch Therese explore each new exhibit, loved to watch Therese look, and see.

They spent a long time in front of Carol’s favorite painting, _The Song of the Lark_ , marveling at the breathless posture of the young woman capturing a suspended moment in time, and at how the light seemed to shift with the depicted sunrise even as they looked at the painting.  And they were both stunned by the two pieces by Georgia O’Keeffe, whom Carol had heard of but not seen any of her work.  Therese stared at _Black Cross, New Mexico_ for an age. 

“Her perspective, so up close you can see the nails, but the horizon goes on forever.”  She turned to Carol.  “Does New Mexico look like this?”

Carol smiled.  _That’s my girl_ , Carol thought, _always seeing_.  “I don’t know, but we could find out.”

“What do you mean?”  
  
“What I mean is, we can go wherever we like, so let’s go to New Mexico.”  She grinned.  “Maybe we’ll find Georgia there.”

“Let’s do it!” Therese laughed as they walked to the next part of the gallery.

There was a small selection of photographs by Alfred Stieglitz that Therese studied for a long time, especially the photos of Georgia O’Keeffe, particularly her hands.  Therese was captivated.  “Palladium…” she said in hushed tones, reaching forward as if to touch the photographs, “I could never...the color and texture is so rich...Oh Carol...and look ” – she said to Carol, pointing to a particular photograph of a hand fingering the placket of a thick dark coat – “so much shadow and dark background and yet the hand almost glows.” 

Carol shifted closer, leaning to look over Therese’s shoulder. “You could take photographs like that.”

Therese huffed a short laugh. “No, are you kidding? Platinum is expensive, and anyway…”

Carol resolved then and there to buy all the materials Therese would need for palladium photos.  “Therese, you have the eye for it, I’ve been watching you, how observant you are, how you see things other don’t.” Carol could see a blush creep into Therese face, and gave her a little nudge with her shoulder. “I’ve seen your photos, remember. You’ll be that good too.”

Therese shrugged. “Maybe.”  But there was a small smile at the edges of her mouth, Carol noticed, and, looking briefly around to be sure they were alone, she reached down and squeezed her hand, feeling a current from Therese’s bare skin.  “Believe me,” she said into Therese’s ear, and felt her slight shudder.  They were still for a moment, and then Carol quietly asked, “What are you thinking?”

Therese cocked her head again at the photo.  “Her hand…it...”

“Mmm?”

“It reminds me of...yours.” 

Now it was Carol’s turn to blush.  Unsure what to say to that, she merely cocked her head with a lift of her chin and they walked quietly away to the next gallery. _These sudden bursts of bravery_ , she thought with a stir in her belly, _they will be my undoing_.

That night they dined again at the Drake.  Carol had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing when the hostess addressed Therese as “Mrs. Aird” and led them to their table.  Left alone, Carol raised her water glass to Therese and winked, “Mrs. Aird,” and their laughter was sweet to Carol’s ears.

Over dinner they decided they were ready to move on.  Therese liked Chicago – “it’s big and fresh and new in a way that New York just isn’t” – but wanted to see what else the West had to offer.  Carol, though she kept it to herself, was feeling a touch restless staying in one place. She had called Abby before dinner – Therese disappearing into the bathroom as she always did – and there was no news, but somehow Carol felt like it was time to move. 

Besides, it was really being in the car that Carol loved best.  The long hours just talking, or driving in silence or a bit of music, but almost always holding Therese’s hand.  Outside of the car, there were moments of closeness, rarely in public and regardless certainly Carol could not hold her hand constantly, could not hold her at all, as every pore in her flesh wanted to do.  The lake had been a breakthrough, and a new ease together grew from that moment, but outside of the car there was a dance they did, of these intimate shared moments followed later by an awkwardness, a distance, as if neither was entirely sure of what the other wanted, and so took a step back.

In the car, though, there was no doubt:  Even when they just drove to the market to stock up on whiskey and bread and fruit, Carol extended her gloved hand and Therese took it.  So Carol longed to be in the car again, hours alone simply being held by Therese, even if it was just a hand held in the other’s warm, gentle hand.

After settling on their route – westward into Iowa and on to South Dakota and beyond – and packing up, Therese insisted on another round of gin rummy.  They had picked up a pack of cards at the drugstore a few days ago, and Carol was delighted to discover that Therese had a fairly wicked competitive streak that Carol decided she adored.  The only time she heard Therese curse was when Carol won a hand, which made Carol laugh and want to win even more, though truth be told, she rarely did.  She did not mind losing at all, however, as the sight of Therese winning, throwing down her cards with wide eyes flashing, was even more adorable – and desirable, Carol would almost let herself admit – than Therese cursing.

Ever since Canton and the Presidential Suite they had not been as physically close alone in their hotel room as they had that night; they played cards with the writing table pulled out between them, whiskey tumblers close at hand, record player on in the background (always starting with “Easy Living”), just in pajamas and robes, and Carol knew this was part of the dance, too, as they laughed and teased each other as they played, but always with the table in between, even as they reached across to touch glasses or playfully prod at each other’s hands or arms.  Otherwise they kept an odd distance, changing clothes in the bathroom, not even sharing the sink to brush their teeth. 

They played three hands before Carol called it quits.  “I’m tired and we’re driving tomorrow,” she yawned.

“You just can’t stand losing,” Therese teased, hopping up and coming around to Carol’s side of the table to stand behind her.

“You’re right, darling, you’re just too smart for me,” Carol grinned.

Putting her hands on Carol’s shoulders, Therese laughed: “Yes! I am!”  She leaned down, her head next to Carol’s. “God, I’d quit too if that were my hand.”  Therese’s squeezed her shoulders, and then Carol felt a quick press on the top of her head as Therese quickly disappeared into the bathroom.

Carol didn’t move for a long moment. She drew in a shaky breath.  Did what she thought happened just happen?  She barely registered the sound of the shower coming on, and with a quick decision went to her bed, put the phone in her lap, and dialed.

“Abby,” she said as soon as the receiver picked up.  
  
“What’s up? You ok?”

“I’m fine, fine, it’s just…”

“What, Carol, it’s after midnight here.  Where’s Therese?”

“In the shower. She’s always in the shower when I call you.”

“She hates me, you know that.”

“Don’t be daft.  Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I’d just come to bed. The redhead just left. Now tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Wait, the steakhouse redhead? You’re incorrigible.”

“Indeed I am. Now what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, I just..”  Carol heaved a big sigh.  “Abby…she holds my hand, she’s kind, she...she sees me.”

“Ah-ha.,” Abby said. There was a gentle smile in her voice, Carol could tell. “You’ve really got it bad, don’t you?  I told you, she’s young, are you sure about this?”

“Yes.  No.  I...I just want her to be sure.  I want to be sure she’s sure.” 

 “Well, Carol,” Abby said, and there was a clinking of ice cubes in the background, “you know it’s not that easy. For us it was...different, we’d known each other so long I could read your mind.  Just...I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.  So, be happy, if you can.”

“Thanks,” Carol replied, wiping at her eyes.  “You’re the best.”

“I am at that.  Now hang up before she comes out, you’ll spoil the mood if she knows you’re talking to me.”

“You’re ridiculous.  Good night, Abby.”

“‘Night, nitwit.”

Carol put the phone back on the bedside table with a sigh and looked around the room, running a hand through her hair and remembering the kiss pressed there.  She will be my undoing, she thought, standing up, stretching, and pulling her robe tighter around her.  The shower had gone off.  Carol cleared off the table, throwing away the paper napkins and empty whiskey bottle, collecting the playing cards and tucking the pack away in her bag, putting the ice bucket and empty glasses on the tray.  She was stalling, she knew, until Therese came out of the bathroom, thought she was not sure why. 

Refolding a sweater for the fifth time, she heard the bathroom door open and turned, dropping the sweater into the suitcase and walking towards Therese.  She looked freshly scrubbed and sweet in her polka-dot pajamas, robe folded over her arm.

Carol stopped in front of her.  “All set then?”

“Mmhmm.  All yours.”  Therese just looked at her, with a curious small smile.

“I tidied up a bit.”  Carol grasped at something to say to extend the moment.

Therese scanned the room quickly. “Yes, thank you.” 

“You’ll set the alarm?”

“Of course.  7:30?  Remember we want to stop at the market.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Neither one moved as they continued to gaze at each other.  Finally Carol said, “Well, I guess I’ll brush my teeth.  Goodnight, darling.”

And before she could stop herself she hugged Therese goodnight, and felt Therese hugging her back.  As Carol released her she quickly kissed the top of Therese’s head, and this time it was she who disappeared into the bathroom without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ the artwork mentioned was in possession of the Art Institute in 1952 (their website is brilliant, check it out); "the Song of the Lark" and "Black Cross, New Mexico" happen to be personal favorites.
> 
> ~ the idea that Therese and Carol might play cards was actually inspired by sarah_dude's brilliant fic, "Creamed Spinach: The Collected Works." The chapter on board games at the Aird/Belivet home is a hilarious work of art. It's on AO3, find it.


	5. Across To Iowa

There was a thoughtful quietness between them the next morning as they went about dressing and loading the car.  On their way out of town they stopped for food supplies, and then Carol decided she wanted champagne for that night, so they made another stop at a liquor store for beer and whiskey and champagne.  Carol even bought two champagne flutes.  Wrapping the bottle in a sweater, Carol put it in the trunk, braced between suitcases so it would not roll around.  “It’s New Year’s Eve, darling, hopefully back here it will stay cold, wherever we end up spending the night.”

After a final stop at the gas station to fill up, they headed out of Chicago late morning.  Carol searched the radio until they found some suitable music, and then put her gloved hand in Therese’s lap.  She noticed Therese was sitting closer to her than usual, as always taking in all the changing scenery with her wide, curious eyes.

“Now I feel like we’re really heading into nowhere,” Therese said, as the suburbs began to change into fields and treelines.

“Oh?  How’s that?”

“Oh, you know, ‘Chicago’ is a place I’ve always heard of, and didn’t really seem that far away, in my head.  Pennsylvania, Ohio, people I know go there all the time, even if I hadn’t.  But now, I don’t know anything about Iowa, or anywhere else we’re headed, and it all feels new.”

“Well,” Carol smiled with a squeeze to Therese’s hand, “perhaps now our adventure really begins.”

Therese smiled and tightened her hand around Carol’s. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“For inviting me.  I...just...thank you.”

“Well!”  Carol was momentarily flummoxed.  “Well, I wanted you to come!”

“Why?”

“Oh!”  Carol wanted to tread carefully.  “Well...Remember the day you came to my house?”

“Yes, of course.”  Therese was slowly rubbing her thumb over Carol’s knuckles.  Even through the glove Carol could feel the hum between their skin.

_Don’t get distracted, Carol, you’re driving_ , she thought.  “I enjoyed our time together.  Getting the tree.  Hearing you play.  And you didn’t seem to mind that I took time to be with Rindy.”

“It was fun to see you being playful,” Therese said, and Carol winked at her. 

“But I think the important thing for me was, when Harge came, it didn’t seem to scare you off.  I could tell you were startled but…you stayed with me, but also gave me the privacy I needed to deal with it, with him.  You were trying to be so kind...even though I was awful to you afterwards.  I still feel badly about that.”

“Don’t Carol, you apologized anyway, it’s ok.”

“Well, thank you.  Anyway…” Carol paused.  How could she say this? “So I wanted you to come with me.  Someone who’s kind, not...pushy. Someone who could see me without me having to tear myself open.  So” – she picked up her and Therese’s clasped hands and tapped Therese’s leg with them a few times – “here you are.”

Carol could feel Therese cock her head to look at her.  “And not Abby?”

_Ah_ , Carol thought, _here we are_.  She took a deep breath.  “No. Abby has been my best friend since we were little girls.  I love her, could not survive without her.  But no, she was not the person to come with me on this trip.  For one thing, in a way she’s too close, you know? She knows too much.  She gets angrier at Harge than me sometimes, I think.  I would not have been able to breathe, the way I can...well, with you.”  She gave Therese’s hand another squeeze.  “And also, we have a...well, a history, and if Harge found out it would have made things much worse.”

“And if he finds out I’m with you, would that...make things worse?”

Carol considered carefully before responding, remembering how Harge had spat the words “shop girl” at her.  “Perhaps.  But...not in the same way, I think.” She glanced over at Therese.  “It’s nothing for you to worry about, darling.”

Carol could tell Therese was pondering, still looking at her curiously.

“Therese, I want you to be here. That’s all the matters.  I’m happy you’re here.”

She could feel Therese’s smile.  “I’m happy too, Carol.”

Carol took a deep breath.  _Well_ , she thought, _we made it through that conversation, and we’re still here.  Oh my.  God, I hope she understood everything I was trying to say_.

They drove on for a while in companionable silence.  In western Illinois they pulled over for lunch, leaning on fence posts looking out over fallow fields. The day was grey with low-hanging clouds closing in the sky.  Carol was not at all surprised when Therese got her camera from the car to photograph the landscape.

Therese snapped a few photos, then turned to Carol.  “Come with me?” she said, holding out her hand. 

Carol looked at her, puzzled.  “Where?”

“Just here, under these trees, come on.”  She grabbed Carol’s hand and led her to the little grove of bare trees at the corner of the field.  “Just...can you stand just there, where the trunk casts the shadow, and…” she paused, biting her lip.

Carol realized Therese was suddenly shy.  “I see,” she said, pulling off her gloves.  “You want to try those photos.”  Therese nodded, putting the camera up to her eye.  “What would you like me to do?” Carol asked, bringing a hand up near her throat.

“Um.  You can lean against the tree?”  She took a photo that Carol knew was of her hand.  “And...I don’t know, just be natural?”

Carol smiled and ran a hand through her hair.  “You’re nervous, darling, don’t be. You’re doing fine.  Just tell me what you want.”

A blush crept into Therese’s face. “Um...do that again? With your hair.”

Carol ran her hand through her hair again, slowly, turning her head to one side, and heard several clicks of the camera shutter.

They stayed taking photos for several more minutes, as Carol shifted her hands to different positions, and taking care to pose at least once like the photo Therese had so liked in Chicago, with a hand at the placket of her fur coat.  At last Therese lowered the camera with a shy smile.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Carol gave her a gentle smile. “Ready to go?”

“Mmhmm.  Let’s go.”

They put the remains of lunch back in the car, Carol finishing off the last of the coffee in the thermos.  Carol pulled her gloves back on, maneuvered the car back onto the highway, and they drove onward, hand in hand.

They didn’t talk for a long stretch, but Carol felt the silence between them to be comfortable, as if they’d come to a place where words weren’t needed.  The space between them, she felt, was not the space of distance now, but full, expectant, and tinged with her own longing and wondering.  She yearned to be held by Therese, to be wrapped around with her warmth and kindness, to feel those hands on her body, and with every brave move from the young woman that yearning grew stronger, an underwater current gaining force.

“Why do you always wear gloves when you drive?”  Therese’s voice broke Carol out of her drifting thoughts.

“Hmm?”  Carol glanced over.  Therese was looking down at her hand in her lap, rubbing a thumb across the back of her hand.  Carol swallowed, hard.  _Undone, because if you do that on my bare skin, I will come undone, she thought_.  She looked forward out the windshield and licked her lips. “Oh.  I...my hands get cold driving in the winter.”

“I see.”  Therese gently pulled the glove off, finger by finger, and Carol gripped the steering wheel hard with her driving hand.  _Oh god, concentrate_ , she thought.  Therese laid the glove in her lap and pressed Carol’s bare hand between hers. 

“Definitely cold!  Even with the glove.”  And Therese began rubbing Carol’s hand in her own to warm it up.  “Maybe this will help.”

Carol just nodded, and stared straight ahead, willing herself keep driving. After a minute, she felt Therese lift her hand and press it to bare skin, and flicked a glance to see that Therese had pressed it to her cheek.    “There,” Therese said, “that’s better.”  And she moved their hands back into her lap, still rubbing her thumbs across Carol’s palm and the back of her hand.

Carol realized she was not breathing, and inhaled quickly.  _Oh god_ , she thought, with another glance towards Therese, who was looking with care at Carol’s hand.

“You have a little scar here, on your knuckle.”

“Oh, that,” Carol laughed with a huff, thankful for a distraction.  The scar was a small, clean little half-moon across her middle knuckle.  “Abby got a little careless in the furniture store one day.  I made sure to bleed all over her white shirt as vengeance.”  Carol remembered the moment clearly, but no way in hell was she going to tell Therese that story.

“I believe it.” Therese laughed, and kept looking at Carol’s hand.  “And here?”

Carol hadn’t realized Therese had slid the sleeves of her coat and blouse up her wrist, where she was now tenderly grazing the edges of a more jagged scar on Carol’s forearm.  Carol blinked, and images of shattered porcelain, scattered red roses, and water all over the floor flashed in Carol’s memory.  She could still see the gin-soaked rage in Harge’s face as he glared and heaved. She had refused to cry.   She simply walked out the door, grabbing her bag and keys on the way, and drove straight to Abby’s.  She did not even know she was bleeding until they were sitting at the kitchen table with coffee.

She blinked, and shook the memory from her head.  “Harge.  Abby was livid, I thought she would kill him with her bare hands...I didn’t go back to the house for a week.”

Therese had inched closer and put a hand on Carol’s shoulder.  With her other hand she was still caressing – _yes_ , Carol thought, _caressing_ – the scar.  No one had ever done that. No one had cared enough to notice, to see.  Carol was moved.

“Oh Carol, I’m so sorry.” Therese’s voice was full of care.  “How long ago was that?”

“I was pregnant with Rindy, actually, so almost five years ago.  He only did that once, but it was enough.”

“I’m so sorry.  Carol, you deserve better.”  Therese had wrapped her hand around the scar and pulled Carol’s whole arm to her chest, a protective gesture that made Carol want to cry, or sing.  Instead she looked at Therese, into her eyes.

“Yes,” she said with a small smile.  “I do.” 


	6. Waterloo

In eastern Iowa, they turned northwest, catching an angle up to Sioux Falls.  “Somewhere along here we’ll have to stop for the night,” Carol said.  When there was no answer she realized Therese had fallen asleep, leaned back into the seat and still clutching Carol’s hand.  No wonder my arm aches, she thought, and as gently as she could pulled her arm away and gave it a stretch.  Therese shifted but didn’t wake.  _My poor darling, how do you get so tired?_ Carol wondered, and put her arm around Therese’s shoulders, slowly pulling her towards her until Therese was lying against her, Carol’s arm around her.  It wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it would do, and they were still in this position when they pulled into a town.

They stopped at a stoplight, and the change in speeds caused Therese to stir.  Carol noticed that she didn’t seem at all startled to wake up with Carol’s arm around her.  She simply rubbed her eyes as if waking up like this were the most natural thing in the world, and shifted more upright.

“Where are we? How long was I asleep?”

“Oh, a while.  This, my dear, is Waterloo, Iowa,” Carol proclaimed as if it were a grand announcement, and they both giggled.  “Why don’t we stop here for the night, it looks like there are places to eat still open, it’s early enough.”

“Sure, whatever you think.”

They found a motel with a vacancy and unloaded the car, leaving the champagne and beer to chill in the sink, covered in ice. Carol called Abby briefly to update her on their whereabouts and wish her a Happy New Year.  This time, though, Therese did not disappear into the bathroom, which Carol noticed with curiosity.

Since it was still a bit light out, they walked a few blocks to a diner and had supper.  The waitresses all had on party hats for New Year’s Eve, which Carol thought was funny.  Therese squinted and gave her a serious look.  “They’re probably ‘compliments of the management’ and they have to wear them or their pay will be docked.  That’s how it was at Frankenberg’s.”

“But you looked so cute in yours, darling.  Remember?” 

Therese just rolled her eyes as the waitress came with their food, though Carol knew from the twitch of a grin at the corner of her mouth that Therese remembered perfectly well how Carol had turned as she had walked away, and said with her best smoldering look, “I like the hat,” and winked. _Who would have guessed_ , she thought, _that we would be here now_.

“Therese,” she said after their entrees were set down, “whatever possessed you to send me back my gloves?”

Therese’s eyes went wide and she shifted in her seat.  “Oh!” she said, taking a bite of her potatoes and pressing her fingers to her mouth.  She chewed, swallowed, paused. “Oh, well, I...I was just hoping I would...see you again.  A long shot, I know.”

“Well, that worked out well, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did.  Only because you called to thank me, though.”

“Well, such a gesture deserves...recognition,” Carol replied, cocking an eyebrow with a grin. 

Therese shook her head and took a drink of her soda.  “Did you really think it was a man from the ski department?”

“Ha!” Carol laughed.  “Honestly?” she said, pushing her hair back with a hand, “No.  I knew exactly where I had left my gloves.”

“Ah-ha,” Therese responded with a quirked grin.  “I see. On purpose?”

“You know?  I’m not actually sure.  I’m just glad I did.”

Carol felt a warmth grow in her chest, even as they walked back to the motel in the chill of night and neon lights, hands in their pockets, elbows almost, but not quite, touching. _This dance we do, it’s changed_ , she thought.  Instead of coming close and then pulling apart, now they were taking a step closer, a step braver, finding ease there in a gentle circling around, and then moving closer again. 

Back in the motel room, Carol found herself watchful for that moment, that clue for when she could cross the last space between them at last.  A nervous current had settled in her knees and chest, and her eyes followed Therese all around the room as they settled in for the evening.  And she could feel Therese’s eyes on her as well, as she fine-tuned the radio until they found Guy Lombardo’s New Year’s Eve program. 

It was still a few hours until midnight, and Therese stepped out for more ice to keep the champagne and beer chilled while Carol pulled out the table to continue their card game.  Fishing the deck of cards and running scoresheet out of her bag – Therese was trouncing her and Carol knew she would never catch up, not that she cared – she decided to take another step closer to the center of their circle, kicking off her shoes and waiting for the sound of the door to open.

Therese returned shortly, and poured most of the ice into the sink over the bottles.  She brought two beer bottles to the table as Carol stood, turned so that she was facing away from Therese, and began to pull off her sweater over her head as she walked towards her suitcase.  “Darling, let’s change into our pajamas, I want to be comfortable while I lose to you.”  She felt Therese go still behind her, and knew without looking her eyes were wide, watching her.  They had never undressed in front of each other on this trip, and Carol held her breath even as she worked the zipper on skirt, let it fall to her feet, and then picked it up to fold into her suitcase wearing just a slip.    _Please, please don’t be afraid now_. 

There was a beat, and then from behind her Therese’s voice, breathy, surprised, shy:  “Oh! Sure!” Carol heard metal on the wood table, _surely the bottle opener being set down_ , she thought as she slid off a stocking, knowing that Therese was watching her every move.  Then she felt Therese move across the room, speaking, a new thread of strength in her laugh:  “I mean, I want to be comfortable while I win.”  Carol smiled to herself and pulled her slip off. _One step closer_ , she thought, and breathed again. _It’s your move now, darling, what next?_ Side by side near the foot of the beds they changed into their pajamas, still giving each other privacy, backs turned, heads shifted away, a quiet moment that to Carol felt momentous if only because it felt so natural. 

Clad in pajamas and robes, they settled in at the table.  Therese took a swallow of her beer.  “Well?  You ready to lose?”

“Always, darling,” Carol grinned as she dealt the cards.

But Carol won the first game, and the next, and the one after that.  She tried not to laugh too hard as Therese became more and more frustrated with Carol’s sudden winning streak.  In the fourth game, the tension built as Therese went silent, gnawing the corner of her lower lip in concentration, and Carol bit the inside of her own cheek to keep from laughing.  Therese’s eyes followed every move, every card discarded, determined to win.  Suddenly Carol felt an urge to win the hand, just for the reaction it would provoke in the other woman, and the game slowed down as each one focused in on every play.

Several turns later, just to needle Therese, Carol gave her a long look, picked up the card from the discard pile, slowly tapped it into her hand, even more deliberately drew another card from her hand, laid it on the pile, and then settled back into her chair, all without taking her eyes off Therese.  “Your turn,” she said, her voice unabashedly pitched low in a way that she knew drew a rise from Therese.

Therese squinted at Carol and worked at her lip.  Carol did her best to keep her face expressionless as she drank a long swallow from her beer.  She watched Therese look at the discard pile, then back at Carol, several times, hardly even blinking as she pondered.   Carol took another drink and raised an eyebrow.  “You have to make a play someday, you know.”  

“Mm, don’t rush me,” Therese responded, still squinting from the pile to Carol and back again.  Carol smirked; it was all she could do to keep from bursting out laughing at Therese’s seriousness.

Finally Therese picked up Carol’s discarded card, tucked it into her hand, and laid her own discard on the pile.  Carol sat forward, took another pull off her beer, set the bottle down carefully, then picked up Therese’s card, put it in her hand, pulled out her discard, and carefully laid it face down on the pile. Her face broke into a grin as Therese’s eyes went wide, and Carol flipped her hand over with a wink to show Therese her winning hand.

“Aggh! Dammit!” Therese shouted and threw her own cards to the table.  Carol laughed uproariously, and Therese flushed, and then began to giggle.  “How are you doing this?”

“Darling, I assure you I have no idea. Now give me your cards so I can count up your points,” she said, stretching out a hand.

“Fine.” Therese picked up her cards and gave them to her.  “But I’m checking your math!”

Carol just laughed as she added up the points, wrote down the updated score, and slid the paper across the table to Therese.  “Here.  You are too funny when you lose.” She stood up, stretched. “What time is it?  I don’t care if it’s not midnight yet, I want some champagne to celebrate.” 

Therese looked at her watch. “Just past 11.  Carol, I’m still so far ahead of you you’ll never catch up.”

“That’s what’s so fun about it, it’s life or death to you regardless,” Carol smiled, coming back into the room with the champagne, working out the cork.

“Ah, there we go. Hand me the glasses?”  She poured out champagne for the both, careful not to spill.  Setting down the bottle, she raised a glass to Therese.  “Here’s to losing?”

Therese giggled and touched her glass with her own.  “You’re awful. I hate to lose.”

“Oh, I believe it.”

They drank again in silence.  Carol stretched her neck.  “If we want to shower before midnight, we’d better get going.  Why don’t you go first?  We don’t want to miss the countdown.”

“Sure,” Therese said, and finished off her champagne.  “I won’t be long.”  She gathered her toiletries and headed into the bathroom.

Carol stretched and sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed.  The band on the radio was playing a song that she had once danced to with Harge, which ran a chill of anger up her spine, and the champagne made her feel her nerves again.  Rubbing her hands, that voice of worry began to whisper at her again.  What if she were reading everything wrong?  _Surely not_ , she told herself, _surely not at this point_.  If only she could just come out and say what she felt. But the world didn’t work like that, not for two women, and not even Abby had been brave enough to break that silence with words.  No, Carol would have to keep watching for signs, even though her skin felt like it was on fire, her hands physically aching to touch Therese.

The bathroom door opened.  Lost in her thoughts, Carol had not even noticed the shower had gone off, and she stood up, slightly startled.  Therese came out, wearing nothing but her robe.  Carol stood still, unbelieving, and for a moment they just looked at each other.  Therese glanced at the bathroom and pointed with her chin.  “Your turn,” she said, with a soft smile, and made her way to her suitcase.

Carol shook herself.  “Right.  Right.”  She headed into the bathroom.  “Be out in a bit.”

_Well_ , she thought to herself as she stepped into the shower, careful not to wet her hair.  _Has she made her move?  If I open this door and she’s still like that...god, what will I do?_  She leaned against the wall, letting the water run down her body, the temperature as hot as she could stand it.  Her conversation with Abby over martinis the day of the injunction came back to her.  “Tell me you know what you’re doing,” Abby had asked, not without understanding, and Carol was still not sure if she did.  After a quick wash, she turned the shower off and toweled dry.  _Now we shall see_ , she thought, and poked her head out the door.  “What time is it, darling?”

Therese was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair, still wearing just her robe.  Carol inhaled sharply as Therese checked her watch, now laying on the vanity, and looked over her shoulder.  Carol could see bare skin under the robe, the shadow of curve.  “It’s nearly midnight, Carol, hurry up!  What took you so long?”

Carol didn’t really answer.  “Be right there,” she said, closing the door and putting on only her robe, leaving her pajamas hung on the door.  She opened the door again to let out the steam, and began rubbing night cream into her neck and face.  _All right, Carol_ , she said to herself, _all right. Stay calm_.  All she could feel was her heart pounding.  She heard “Auld Lang Syne” coming from the radio and realized she was missing the countdown.  _Stop stalling and go already_.  With a last long look at herself in the mirror she reached up to pull the light chain, and walked to the vanity, smiling to herself.

She needed something more grounding than champagne, so she picked up the beer sitting there and raised the bottle to Therese.  “Happy New Year.”

Therese dropped the brush in her lap and picked up her champagne, and they toasted.  “Happy New Year,” Therese said smiling up at her, and they both drank.  Carol moved to stand behind Therese, reminded suddenly of another moment, when she first laid her hands on Therese’s shoulders while she played the piano. _Full circle_ , she thought.  They regarded each other in the mirror, and Therese, Carol noticed, did not look away.  Her gaze was open, compassionate.  Carol found herself sinking right into it as she began to caress Therese’s hair.

“Harge and I never spent New Year’s Eve together …” A wave of loneliness washed over Carol, and as if she knew, Therese turned her head ever so slightly into Carol’s caress.  “...Always a business function, always clients to entertain…”  The moment became quiet as Therese watched Carol in the mirror.

“I always spend New Year’s alone. In crowds,” Therese said quietly.  Carol’s hands stilled on her shoulders, now looking at Therese with as much tenderness as she could.  She had not thought before that they might both have been living desolate, aching lives. Therese reached up over her right shoulder and took Carol’s hand, squeezing it gently, rubbing her thumb across the knuckles.  “I’m not alone this year.”

They gazed at each other. Carol was faintly aware of music, of a voice saying something about snow and the moon.  Therese had taken her hand for the first time, and Carol wondered distantly if either one of them was breathing.  Carol thought her heart might just fly out of her chest.  Time was suspended in a space filled with loneliness, yes, and also longing, that Carol was certain was not only her own.    _Now_ , she thought, _now_.

Without breaking her gaze with Therese, Carol reached down to the belt of her robe, slowly pulling it away, untying the knot and letting the robe come open, shifting slightly to be sure Therese knew there was nothing but bare skin underneath. She watched as Therese’s eyes went momentarily wide, and then felt a trill of joy as Therese looked up at her, and leaned back, expectant.

Their kiss was a gift, tentative and yearning at first, Carol cupping the back of Therese’s head and holding her other hand, clutched to Therese’s chest. They caught their breath, mouths still touching, and then kissed again, now more fervently, certain, all their mutual long finding its way free.  They clung to each other as they kissed, Carol’s fingers brushing Therese’s chest and neck, Therese leaning farther back with the urgency of their kiss. 

Carol was momentarily lost in the softness of Therese’s mouth.  And then she heard Therese say something that took her breath away:  “Take me to bed.”  _My beautiful, brave girl_ , Carol thought, kissing the Therese’s forehead, as Therese stood up. They moved to the bed, Therese lying back and Carol sitting next to her, reaching for the belt of Therese’s robe.  Every moment felt slowed down, even though Carol felt she would explode if Therese’s hands weren’t on her that instant.

She opened Therese’s robe like partaking in a sacrament.  “I never looked like that,” she said with reverence, feeling the muscles in Therese’s belly shudder under her hand.  The red of her nails seemed to Carol like tongues of flame dancing across Therese’s skin, and suddenly she needed her mouth again.   Therese reached out for Carol as Carol leaned forward, and they kissed, Therese’s breath shaking.  “You’re trembling,” Carol said hushed, marveling, pressing another kiss to Therese’s mouth, in awe that the young woman was quivering with emotion.

Therese pushed at Carol’s robe, baring her shoulder.  Carol leaned to turn off the light ( _always in the dark, always, never in the light_ ), but Therese grabbed her arm.  “No, don’t, I want to see you,” Therese insisted, still breathless, but strong, not shifting her eyes from Carol.  _My god_ , Carol thought, as they both pulled off their robes. _Oh my god, yes, see me. See me._   She kissed Therese with the urgency of gratitude, kissed her down her body, breast, belly, hip, inner thigh ( _so soft_ ), blessed center, hands roaming everywhere, wanting Therese to feel everywhere in her body what Carol felt in her own. Therese gasped under Carol’s touch, and Carol made herself slow down.

Moving back up the younger woman’s body, lips and tongue dragging across her ribcage, her breast, Carol finally reached Therese’s mouth again, glorying to feel Therese pull her to her, kissing her with a fierce wonder, running her hands through her hair.  They shifted on to their sides, kissing still, and Carol felt Therese’s arms around her, hands in her hair, on her shoulders, on her back ( _oh god_ ), and the kindness and warmth she felt when Therese had held her hand in the car all those times was just as present, and now vibrant, hot, wanting, and Carol felt herself trembling now, pulling back to look Therese in the eyes.

Therese cupped her face with such tenderness in her gaze that Carol thought she would cry.  “My angel,” she whispered, breathless, tracing Therese’s mouth with her fingers, “flung out of space.”  Therese caressed Carol’s face, pulling her into another kiss, skin to flushed skin, and the last coherent thought Carol remembered was, _please, don’t ever stop touching me.  Please, please don’t ever stop seeing me._


	7. Two Sunrises

Carol could not believe it all fell apart so quickly.

She had awakened early and watched the sunrise from the window. The day promised to be bright and fair, and she felt full of laughter, light.  When Therese had finally woken up she had crawled back into bed, kissing Therese’s sleepy eyes first, then her mouth , that mouth that had worked miracles on her tired body during the night.  Carol happily let Therese pull off her robe and slip and toss them to the floor, and they lay there, languidly caressing each other’s curves, gently kissing eyebrows, necks, shoulders, collarbones. 

“Carol, I think  I left a mark here,” Therese said with concern, grazing her thumb across a purplish oval on the soft flesh of Carol’s right breast.  “I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

Carol drew a thumbnail along the long curve from Therese’s hip up her ribcage, causing the young woman to shudder in a way that made Carol feel a wildness inside.  Kissing her way down Therese’s sternum, she answered, voice low and humming, “Dearest, no, not at all.” She pressed her lips to Therese’s breast.  “And believe me when I tell you I do not care.”  She took the fullness of Therese’s breast into her mouth, tipping the nipple with her tongue, causing Therese to hiss and arch. 

“Carol,” Therese rasped, wrapping her arms around the other woman, “if you do not stop, we will never get anywhere today.”

Carol was still in a reverie when she went to check out while Therese loaded the car.  The front desk clerk was still wearing her New Year’s party hat – ‘ _compliments of the management_?’ Carol wondered and smiled to herself.  The telegram froze her heart over, and then shattered it like a crowbar striking glass.

The feeling of utter violation was immediate, a rip in the fabric of vulnerable innocence and privacy they had created for themselves, driving Carol to a shaking, near incoherent rage as she charged towards the car.  _How dare he how dare he, where is it where is it?_

“Where’s my suitcase,” she demanded, barely aware of Therese’s response.  “Where’s my fucking suitcase?”  She fumbled through the case in the trunk, finally pulling out the gun and nearly running to the only place he could be, the one room next to theirs.  She was only vaguely aware of Therese calling after her, following her as she stopped in front of the door, gathered up her courage, and burst in.

Part of her was not at all surprised to see the nerdy, irritating “salesman” from Canton standing next to the recording equipment, microphone still sitting in the expertly cut out hole in the wall.  _Of course_ , Carol thought, _of course it was him.  All this time.  All along.  Dammit.  Dammit_.  Anguish, for herself and for Therese, cracked inside her, and she pointed the gun at his head.

An hour or so later, as they drove the long, suddenly bleak road back to Chicago, Carol couldn’t decide if she was relieved or not that she didn’t blow his head off right then and there.  As it was, the gun jamming when she tried to shoot the equipment had only made her feel desperate, and foolish, though she had still been a bit proud when Therese glared at him after reading the telegram, walked straight into the room to throw “How could you” at him like a curse, and then slammed the door on their way out.  _So brave_ , she thought, _so much braver than me_.

But Therese had been distant since then, Carol noticed, ever since she had called Abby from the alley, arranging the flight out from Chicago.  She had felt completely drained, with no fight left in her after confronting the detective, and had done what she always did in a crisis, reaching out to her best friend, the only one who had ever been there for her.  Carol realized with a twinge that she could have, should have perhaps, talked to Therese first.

“Therese, dearest, you know I have to go back, right?  I have to fight this.”  Carol gave Therese’s hand a squeeze. 

“Yes.  Yes I know,” Therese murmured, and the hollow despair in her voice pulled hard at Carol’s heart.  _To hell with me, for god’s sake, I will kill Harge for hurting her_. 

They drove on in silence, as if they had forgotten how to talk to each other. The anguish in the car was thick, _enough to choke us both_ , Carol thought.  Carol’s mind jumbled around in anger, dejection, and fear of the unknown that lay ahead, and she desperately wanted a drink.  Images of Rindy, of Harge angry or drunk or both, of Abby, and of Therese swirled around in her mind, a tangle of memories and loss and risk.  She could not have felt any farther away from the ecstasy of the night, or even the sheer simple pleasure of the morning, such a short time ago.

She could not now fathom leaving Therese the next morning, returning to an empty, cold house to fight over the remains of an empty, cold marriage.  She wondered now if Therese were actually ok with Abby driving her back to New York, but it seemed impossible otherwise; they should not be seen arriving together, and there was the car, and Carol hoped, though with some uncertainty, that Abby would be a comfort to Therese.  She didn’t want the young woman to be alone in the aftermath of this…of this violation.

Carol sighed, glancing over to see Therese staring, despondent, out the window. Her eyes were lost, _not the eyes of my Therese who sees_.  Carol suddenly remembered a story Therese had shared, nearly a week and a million lifetimes ago while they were driving through Ohio.  Her mother, Therese had said, had taken her to the girl’s home in New Jersey when she was 8, not sure what to do with the precocious but lonely child, and also, Therese added, she suspected her mother just didn’t want her around, so that she could travel about for her music shows without the distraction or the expense of a babysitter.  Not long after, she remarried, and had another child she clearly doted on in a way she never had Therese, and gradually she had stopped visiting.  Since Therese’s father had died when she was just a little girl, by the time she graduated she felt like an orphan, parentless and alone. She had not seen her mother in years, nor cared to.

 _Dammit_ , Carol muttered to herself with a small shake of her head, _dammit.  If this is Therese’s fear now, god, I don’t know how to fix this.  I don’t want to leave her, it’s not the same, but…damn it all to hell._  

They stopped at a diner in Dubuque for a quick, quiet lunch.  Therese still was distant, and Carol ached for her.  Once on the road again, Carol decided to risk breaking the silence that was smothering them both.

“What are you thinking?”  She suddenly felt weary.  “You know how many times a day I ask you that?”  she continued in a frustrated tone that she immediately regretted.

Therese stirred, sniffed.  “I’m sorry.” There was an edge in her voice Carol had never heard before.  “What am I thinking? I’m thinking that I am utterly selfish. And I –ʺ

“Don’t do this,” Carol interrupted. “You had no idea. How could you have known?”

“I – I should have said no to you. But I never say no. And it’s selfish because I take – everything.” The words stumbled out of her. “Because I don’t know – anything. I don’t – know what I want. How could I if I just say yes to everything?”

Therese began to cry, leaning against the window.  Carol felt immense sadness at Therese’s words, and broken, even though she knew the words came from pain and fear. _So young to have been so harmed_.  She pulled the car over to the side of the road and leaned into Therese, turning her towards her.  What could she say that could fix any of this?  She caressed Therese’s cheek, wiping tears away with her thumb.

“I took,” she said, with an emphasis she hoped made clear that the taking between them had been mutual, and desired, “what you gave willingly.”  She gazed into Therese’s reddened eyes, not knowing what else she could say to make it better, so she caressed Therese’s face again, tucking her hair behind her ear, and felt a slight relief when Therese rubbed her cheek into Carol’s palm, as if desperate for her touch.

“It’s not your fault, Therese,” Carol insisted, not releasing Therese’s eyes for a long moment, then shifting back to the driver’s side.  “All right?”  She let go the brake with her eyes on Therese, not pulling out onto the road again until she saw her nod, wiping her nose.

They drove on, and not long after Therese fell asleep.  Carol caressed her cheek and left her hand Therese’s knee. Even if all had been fine, Carol thought, they had hardly slept, and their anguish only added to their exhaustion. When they finally reached Chicago, Carol didn’t even bother with the pretense of registering for two rooms ( _what was the point now?_ ); the bellboy took them straight up.

This room was smaller, tiny in fact, which to Carol seemed fitting given the constriction she now felt, taut around them like a snare.  Was it just two nights ago they were here, and everything had seemed expansive with possibility?

Therese ducked into the bathroom as Carol went to the phone to call Abby, emerging in her polka dot pajamas. Carol’s heart sank as she finished her call and hung up, watching Therese turned back the blankets on the other bed.  _Does she think this is it, that this is over? Does she think this is what I want_?  Carol leaned back, letting her arm fall on her leg, echoing the lump rising in her throat.

“You don’t have to sleep over there.”

Therese looked at her for a moment, then to Carol’s relief came to her open arms. They wrapped themselves around each other, holding each other tight, finally kissing and clinging to one another with a desperation that nearly brought them both to tears.  After their violent discovery that morning, Carol was sure that both of them had feared this might never happen again, and she prayed that Therese would not forget the intensity of their passion, mutual and desired, right now, this moment, as her hands shook unbuttoning the shirt of Therese’s pajamas and Therese shamelessly pulled the layers of clothes from Carol’s body. 

Hours before sunrise Carol woke, knowing soon Abby would arrive and she would have to leave for the airport.  It was all she could do to untwine her limbs from Therese’s and leave her sleeping in the bed.  She did not bother to shower – she wanted Therese’s scent on her for as long as possible – and it took only a few minutes to dress and pack up her one suitcase, carefully placing the Billie Holiday record in between two sweaters.  Everything else would come back in the car.

She picked up Therese’s pajamas from where she had cast them to the floor, and folded them with immense tender care, holding them to her nose to smell them before carefully setting them on the edge of the other bed.  She turned and gazed down at Therese, willing herself not to cry.  She knelt by the bed, took Therese’s hands, and kissed them, lingering and light, careful not to wake her. 

They had not talked about when precisely Carol would leave, and she knew Therese would not understand why Carol slipped out quietly at dawn without waking her, and went down to the lobby to wait for Abby.  She could not stand to say good-bye, could not abide the finality of it when she desperately wished for nothing to be final between them.

She sipped at a cup of coffee, heavy with cream like Therese liked it, and stared down at the blank paper she had brought down with her from the room.  She thought about what Therese had said in the car.  It had hurt Carol when Therese said she should have said no, that she did not know what she wanted.  Surely Therese had made her wants, her desires quite well known in Waterloo.  What was she now unsure of?  _So young, so young, what happened to my brave girl_ , Carol pondered, picking up the pen.

“ _Dearest_ ,” she wrote, and paused, sighing and taking another swallow of coffee.  She closed her eyes.  _You will have to decide what you want, darling, if you want this, all this that comes with me. Not easy, my life.  But I can’t make you choose._ Opening her eyes, she began to write again.  “ _There are no accidents…”_ she wrote, choosing her words carefully.

 “… _You will understand this one day.._.”  She shook her head. _God I hope so_ , she thought.   “… _And when it happens, I want you to imagine me there to greet you_ …”  Carol chewed at the end of the pen, and with a pang complex with happiness and grief remembered the Waterloo sunrise, exquisite with joy.  _“…our lives stretched out ahead of us, a perpetual sunrise…_ ”

Writing “ _there must be no contact between us_ ” was a stab in her chest, but true; any inkling that they were still together would only make this coming fight with Harge harder, and she didn’t trust him not to have spies everywhere now.  She hoped Therese understood that, and why she had to release her to make her own choice.

She signed the letter “Love, Carol,” and folded it into an envelope, kissing the seal though she had no lipstick on to leave a mark, pressing all her hope into the paper.  She was spent, and she felt a deep ache when Abby finally walked into the lobby. She was her best friend, but her arrival meant now it was real: Carol was leaving.

“Oh Abby.”  She stood and stepped into Abby’s hug, and finally released tears into her friend’s shoulder.  Abby held her for a long time, occasionally rubbing Carol’s back and murmuring “all right, all right” into her ear.  Finally Carol stepped back, still holding Abby’s arms, and sniffed. 

“Oh Abby.  She’s hurting, I don’t think she understands… I don’t know, I don’t know.”  She pulled a handkerchief from her bag and wiped her nose.

Abby’s face was kind, concerned for her friend.  “I’ll take good care of her, Carol, I promise.” 

“Get her home safe.  For me.”

“Of course, of course.”  Abby hugged Carol again.  “You’ve got to go, hon, your plane.  I told my cab driver to wait for you.”

“Oh god.”  Carol reached back to the table for the letter and handed it to Abby.  “This is for her, ok?”

Abby smiled gently.  “Of course.”  She took the letter and tucked it in her bag, then gave Carol’s shoulders a squeeze.  “I love you.  Go.  Go fight.  I’ll take care of her.  I’ll get her home to you, ok?”  She hugged her again.  “Ok?”

“Ok, ok,” Carol acquiesced, picked up the suitcase, and headed for the door, looking back over her shoulder.  “Thank you.  Love you too.  Thank you.”  And with that she exited the hotel and climbed in the cab.

At the airport she asked for a window seat in the last row of the plane.  She felt like hiding, and was thankful the flight was not full.  She was alone in her row, and she pulled her coat around her as she settled into the seat.  As the plane took off, she stared out the window to her right, barely seeing the city as they rose into the air and shifted east.  She caught her reflection, empty-eyed, in the glass.  She missed Therese already, a pain searing across her chest.  Tears quietly slid down her cheeks as she longed for that which would have comforted her most, Therese’s hands simply holding hers.


End file.
